Stumbling Block
by lovly39
Summary: AU where Bruce lives with his uncle because of complications with his father and begins school at Shield Academy. He doesn't want anything to do with anyone. He just wants to keep his head down and get perfect scores so his father will take him back. But somehow he gets pulled into this group of people and finds himself being less concerned with his father-which is distressing.
1. Chapter 1: Life will be different

**Chpt 1: Life will be different**

He was calm – unnaturally calm, really, given the circumstances – as he was dragged into a small apartment that reeked of mothballs and stale air.

He allowed his mind to wander as he took in his new surroundings; his new 'home'. His thoughts turned to happier times. Days where his only responsibility at home - his rightful home - was to get top scores in all his classes. His father was stern, hard (if not impossible) to please, but he was his father nonetheless. Maybe 'happier times' wasn't really the right description; his life with his father had been blasé at best, adrenaline inducing at worst - neither were positive. He'd grown to endure the worse days for the better though. It's not like he really had an option. He never had never had an option until Rick came along. Then his too tightly wound world came unraveled and suddenly he had every option in the world, but he felt like he had no options. He had no option concerning whether he wanted to be thrown in with his retired cop Uncle William Walters, and now he had no option on whether or not he wanted to go to a academy that was his father's rivaling school. The mere thought of defying his father (again) caused a pounding on his temples that was borderline migraine. Bruce could feel the beginning of a headache creeping through his skull's tender spots.

He unconsciously rubbed at the bridge of his nose, massaging the area between his eyes. A scowl had taken place on his lips and he could feel his eyes harden.

To add to his problems his uncle was purposely ignoring the problem at hand.

"Uncle..." Bruce growled from inside his new apartment. He had stalked outside of the small room he had been told was his new room and into an almost equally small living room/kitchen. He huffed out of aggravation. His uncle, Will, was calmly standing in the kitchen. They had just moved into New York City. The move had been brought about by his uncle opening his own tea shop. So, of course, they had to get a place to stay. What Bruce didn't like though was that William had found such a small and dingy place to stay.

Bruce had been trapped in the apartment waiting for their moving truck to arrive, a moving truck that was supposed to have arrived over an hour ago.

"Patience Bruce, moving is stressful and we still have plenty to do…would you like some tea?"

Will's eyes rolled over the boxes that were in the kitchen until they landed on what he was searching for, it was a cardboard box like the rest except it was clearly marked with 'tea' on it. Bruce and William had only as many things as they could cram into his uncle's car; all of the larger possessions had been trusted with the movers.

Bruce huffed a petulant breath, "You're too trusting! Those movers are probably going in the opposite direction with our stuff!" Bruce laid the word 'movers' thick with sarcasm to show his uncle that he didn't think they were actually movers.

"Ginseng or Jasmine?" his uncle calmly asked, acting as if they were having a casual conversation instead of Bruce yelling about how the movers had, most likely, robbed them blind. The aged man leaned over to pick up the box and he began to empty its' contents. William was no longer a spring chicken, his hair was salt and pepper gray and in his age he had put on a few pounds. In his youth he had been a man's man, but with age he softened.

"Neither!" Bruce barked, and for the first time he made a move for the door that led out of their apartment. The door slammed after him with a gust of wind and the loud sound of a old, heavy door closing. Bruce had, more or less, just thrown a tantrum and stormed out of the apartment.

Will was a patient man though, and Bruce knew that his uncle would not punish him; it wasn't Will's style. Maybe that was why Bruce was so hot-headed and prone to exploding in a burst of anger—because he knew that he would be instantly forgiven by his uncle.

Will's eyes followed him. A frown pulled onto his otherwise gentle face; a gesture which emphasized the deep lines on his forehead. For a brief second he was worried, but he quickly pushed that emotion away. He trusted his nephew to be responsible and if he did trip up then he trusted him to be fully capable of taking care of it himself. He put a lot of trust into Bruce and treated him like the young man that he was; this was obvious in how he allowed him freedom and how he didn't try to coddle the teen.

Will was a resolute and often pensive man. He was imperceptible in some ways. But Bruce knew he could depend on his stolid uncle to give sagely advice if Bruce needed it. William had always been wise beyond human years and he often gave timely and much needed advice for his nephew to think about.

Will let a more natural soft smile fall into place. He knew that his nephew just needed time to sulk alone before he came back, more or less, in a better mood.

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A frown visibly darkened Bruce's features. He put his hands into his jacket pockets since they had begun to sting like needles from the cold that nipped at his revealed skin. He reached at his hood and pulled it over his medium-length curly brown hair. He paused a second before tugging at the hood to cover his face some more. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight because he looked at someone wrong.

Bruce was unfamiliar with this part of New York City and found himself lost quickly. He had lived in New York City for most of his life but he still couldn't get a consistent definition on it; some people said that the city was a dangerous den of thugs and organized crime, while others said it was a sparkling city that flourished with culture and big and small businesses.

From what Bruce understood it was both.

His uncle's tea shop was in a okay enough neighborhood, but it was obvious that if someone took a wrong turn they could find themselves thrown into shark infested waters. That's what Bruce had done; he had taken the wrong turn, crossed the wrong street, and walked through the wrong alley, only to emerge in what looked like a lower-class residential area.

Bruce tugged at his hood again and glanced to the left. There was a group of boys across the street; they had to be in their teens, probably around Bruce's age. They were looking at him with steel-hard eyes that made it obvious that a new face was unwelcome. Bruce unknowingly narrowed his eyes with hatred at the group of delinquents. He saw their type all the time; breaking things, causing fights, and making good people feel unsafe. His father had a especially strong and potent hate of delinquents and criminals; so inadvertently Bruce had been raised to hate them also.

Another tug at his hood and Bruce averted his eyes, making sure not to look back over but instead to walk away.

A minute passed and Bruce heard the familiar sound of feet clapping against cement. He didn't dare look back though. He opted to quickening his pace, hoping that he was just being paranoid.

But as he walked faster the footsteps, and now he recognized the sound was a few pairs of feet, kept a steady distance from him. It was with slight trepidation that Bruce realized just how bad things could get if he didn't find an area with some people. He had horrible luck though and, of course, there was no one on that street.

One...two...three, four, five. There were five people following him. Bruce frowned. He wasn't a expert fighter and even if he was, the odds would still be against him. He had to shake them somehow... He quickened his pace again only to have the footsteps not get any further, so he advanced to a full on sprint. Bruce's eyes darted around, searching for any hints that there was a crowded street anywhere near, but he didn't know this part of New York City and was aimlessly running with nothing but his debatable luck at his side. Bruce doubled his speed and then quickly turned around a corner. He was met with a busy street of what looked like small businesses selling outside their shop, or maybe it was a festival of some sort, either way Bruce didn't care. His stiff muscles relaxed a little but Bruce wasn't naive enough to drop his guard just yet. He quickly integrated into the crowd, making sure to be as casual as possible as he went deeper into it. His breath was slightly panting but he was young and soon it was schooled into normal breathing. Only once Bruce was sure he was completely mixed in with the crowd did he look back in the direction he had come. He couldn't see their faces but he saw what looked like the reseeding backs of the group of teenagers from before.

He scowled at them until they disappeared behind the corner from before. It was Bruce's first day back in New York City and he had already had to duck out of a possible confrontation. Now he had no clue where he was. He would have to depend on blind luck and instincts to find his way back to their apartment. Bruce's hood had fallen back while he was running and he now tugged it back into place before turning towards what he hoped was the way back to the apartment. Distantly Bruce wondered why they had chased him, but of course he figured it was along the lines of they wanted to take his wallet or something equally negative. Little did he realize that his easily readable hate had set them off; and would cause trouble for him in the future.

After what seemed like a few hours of blindly wandering the streets Bruce managed to find his way back to his uncles' new apartment. Off in the distance the sun was already setting and had fallen out of Bruce's view, offering little in the terms of light.

Bruce stealthily walked into the apartment to find William snoozing away on the couch. The fact that they even had a couch meant that Bruce had been wrong about the movers, but he hardly cared, he was far too tired at the moment.

Bruce wanted to just go into his new room and collapse onto his bed, but he knew that William wouldn't wake up without his help and sleeping on the couch over night would probably give the benevolent older man back pain. So Bruce, like the responsible nephew he was, forced his heavy feat over to the couch. He gently touched the older man's shoulder and that was all it took for him to stir in his sleep. Bruce's uncle slowly shifted before opening his eyes, a gentle sleepy smile swept over his face when his eyes took in his nephew.

"Oh?" he yawned and slowly shifted to an upright position, "I hadn't meant to fall asleep." he didn't ask where Bruce had been for the past couple hours and Bruce didn't offer up the information either, not that he could name streets or even tell where he had been.

Instead he decided to go with a simple, "You should sleep in your room."

Will's sleepy smile widened and he nodded sagely then his deep voice spoke softly, "You're right." he looked to his room and stood, making his way around the couch and across the small room.

He stopped at his door though and turned back to look at Bruce who hadn't moved, "You should go to sleep too. You look tired Bruce." he advised and then retired to his room to continue his slumber in a more comfortable place.

Bruce allowed a small smile to curl the corner of his lip as he watched the door close. His uncle had always been more of a father to him then even his own father. And often, when he thought about a father figure, he instead saw his uncle.

Bruce trudged into his room and went straight to the bed that had been pushed against the far wall. The only window in the room was a small oval window high over the head of his bed. Bruce curled up into the blankets that had been loosely placed over the bed and felt sleep instantly take hold of him. The last thing he remembered thinking before he slipped into an exhausted sleep was that his uncle had unpacked his things for him...

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"Nephew." a strong but gentle hand shook Bruce's shoulder. Bruce turned away from the hand and curled back into himself.

"Bruce, you need to wake up." the gruff voice broke through his veil of sleep.

"Uncle?" Bruce's voice was strange because of his sleepiness.

"You need to go to school." William spoke slowly and carefully, knowing that his nephew always took a while to wake up fully.

A confused grunt came out from under the blankets.

"We just moved here..." Bruce sounded confused but his voice also came out with a thick veil of sleepiness, graveling his voice to even deeper then natural.

"I know, but I made the preparations; today will be your first day." William spoke patiently, and if he thought that his nephews voice cracking into deeper patterns was funny then he didn't show it.

Bruce groaned again, but this time in comprehension.

A moment passed but Bruce still made no move to get up and neither did his uncle, they both knew that Bruce wasn't good at waking himself up.

"So tired." Bruce hissed, more to himself then anyone. If it was up to him, he wouldn't even be waking up.

"I know..." William spoke softly and took his nephews words as a sort of key. He gently grabbed Bruce and with steady hands helped pull him up into a sitting position. William lifted his hands from Bruce's shoulders slowly but let them hover for a second to make sure his nephew was balanced before pulling them fully back.

"Life will be different from now on," William paused, as if pondering his next words "but I believe you have the strength to persevere." Will's voice was more pensive then usual and left Bruce wondering what he even meant.

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Bruce swung his leg over and climbed off of his motorcycle, glad that the piece of machinery had been delivered safely.

He scanned the campus, the high-school was smaller then his old private school but also much larger then the public school he had gone to before moving to New York City.

The campus was...comfortable.

Two large ceramic plant holders held bushes in them and decorated the pathway that lead down towards the main office. Bruce followed the wide path that was surrounded by healthy green grass.

A large steel sign was posted just a little off the path into the grass with the school name carved into it; Shield Academy.

Going to school isn't that big a problem, Bruce thought. Heck, he could probably go the whole day without even saying anything more than his name to the teachers. After the first day there was always less people curious about the new student; and it never took long for their curiosity to die out entirely.

Bruce had never been much of a social butterfly and for some reason students usually avoided him. Most likely, it was because of his fuck-off front that he purposely gave off.

This was his third school he'd been to in the last year. He had spent most of his life going to a prestigious private school, one so selective that if he asked regular people about it he knew they'd have heard of it. Despite the numbers of students who had wished to get close to Bruce simply because of his families wealth and status Bruce had always been a loner. He had had no friends at that school and had always stuck to his studies. Yet, somehow, he had gotten tangled up with a teen that was dangerous in more ways than one. They had met at school. He had known the teen, Rick, was trouble and that his father would disapprove but at the time he was especially rebellious against his father and his expectations. Things escalated; Rick had apparently sought more from Bruce than simple friendship and Bruce had given into experimentation, knowing that his father wouldn't approve and -at the moment- he hadn't cared. he had even relished in the thought that he was defying his father's wishes.

As time went by Bruce was asked by the head and owner of his school why his grades were slipping and why he was suddenly missing classes; and it was no coincidence that the head of the school was paying close attention to Bruce's grades-after, it was his father. Of course his actions couldn't be hidden forever especially when his father was rich enough and powerful enough to be feared by anyone. The caged walls that Bruce lived in got closer together as his father became stricter, more impatient, and more frustrated at knowing his son was disobeying his wishes and making him look bad. Rick was bold though and his rebellious nature didn't falter under the looming threat. Instead he became more outrageous, pushing Bruce into bathroom stalls at the school-Rick enjoying the taste of Bruce's lips and the power he felt while watching the other try to bite back sounds so they wouldn't be found-and Bruce fearing being caught to the point of burrowing a hole in his cheek from clenching his teeth so tightly shut. Bruce had his fair share of close calls; teachers walking into the empty rooms they were in, or other students walking into the bathrooms. Bruce also had his father's lapdogs to worry about, and there was always the threat of rumors being spread-no rumor got past his father's observant ears.

Despite his hardest attempts to keep their relationship secret Bruce's father caught wind of what was going on. Upon his father's command he broke off all contact with Rick, much to the delinquent's disliking. But his father didn't stop there and couldn't accept the new view of his son and Bruce was more or less unofficially disowned. He was sent to live with his uncle; who was a kind older man who was just old enough to have steel grey be the prominent color in his hair. His philosophical ex-cop uncle was a man that had a love for tea, sweets, and board games. It would have felt like a great thing to normal kids, but Bruce saw it as a cruel punishment-a dishonor on himself. He somehow got the notion that if he received excellent grades and high scores that his father would accept him again. He spent two months at the new school while living at his uncle's. He only saw the move as a temporary thing and didn't intend to make a single friend after the whole Rick incident-and he succeeded. Now Bruce was in New York City, coming up on his third school. Before we continue though, don't get Bruce wrong. He'd had a girlfriend before. Rick was just...Rick-an exception. A one time thing, and what Bruce thought was 'a mistake'.

None-the-less, Bruce had grown close with William over the past three months. He didn't know when he had began to think of the man as a sort of second father but he did; and more often then not he would silently search out William for advice.

Will never showed disgust or askance at Bruce's actions and somehow Bruce knew that no matter what he did his uncle would continue to love him and would never shy away from Bruce in shame.

"Can I help you?" the plump secretary turned towards Bruce upon his entrance and offered a kindly smile as a wordless greeting.

"New student?" she knew the answer but asked anyway. Bruce nodded slowly, something else all together captivating his mind.

He needed to get exceptional grades in all his classes if he ever hoped to earn his father's approval again.

"Name?" the secretary was looking down at a small file, probably alphabetized.

"Bruce Banner." Bruce kept his voice flat but with a certain feeling of respect for the woman. He had been raised strictly and respecting his elders was a basic thing.

"Thank you son." the woman smiled again, something Bruce found to be warm welcome and a good beginning to the new school and new day. She skipped to the "B"s in the filing cabinet and quickly enough found his name. After pulling out a folder, opening it, and taking out a paper she turned back to Bruce.

"Here's your schedule young man." she outstretched her hand over the counter with the paper, "Have a good first day. The first class starts in ten minutes and your class is near the back of the school." she offered him helpful information and he took it and the paper with a smile of gratitude. He gave a head nod and continued to what was most likely the direction of his first class.

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Bruce groaned in irritation and petulance. His first class, home economics, had not been offered at his previous schools (not that he would have taken it if it was) but it was apparently a requirement at Shield Academy. WHY it was a requirement Bruce would never understand. Apparently most of the students got the class out of their way in freshman or sophomore year, which left Bruce as the only Senior sulking in front of a cooking station-in a classroom of mostly freshmen.

The teacher stepped into the class with a chipper attitude, reminding Bruce that chipper attitudes grated on his nerves. He mentally rolled his eyes but reframed from actually doing it. All the students had glanced at him when they had entered, but no one actually approached the sulking upperclassman-probably repelled by his stand-offish aura.

The teacher, Mrs. Rose, started her introduction of herself and the class basics and requirements to the young minds ready for molding. Her voice was cheery and almost sing-songy. Anyone else would have no doubt heard the voice as friendly and inviting, but Bruce just slightly grimaced at it.

Soon Bruce's mind was drifting away from her voice and into more interesting thoughts.

Will's grand opening would be soon and Bruce would probably have to help with waiting on the tables while William brewed the tea. Maybe he could even convince his uncle to add some desserts to the menu to attract more people. William had a sweet tooth so it would be simple enough to convince him, but deciding on which desserts also was important. Something that went along with tea would be best... Bruce frowned, he had to admit he didn't know much about tea and he had never really cared for the taste like his uncle did.

Bruce glanced up at Mrs. Rose; she was still talking, though he didn't bother to listen to the words.

Maybe after school he would scope out the city, he could find out what the tea competition in New York City was-that would also be important. As Bruce was mentally mapping out his afternoon plans a shorter teen with a sheepish smile approached him unbeknownst to Bruce.

"Hey." the teen said smoothly. His clear voice snapped Bruce from his thoughts and soon the older teen was staring at the shorter teen with something akin to bewilderment.

"Wanna make the cake with me?" the teen offered a impish smile.

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He blinked bemused as he pulled back in his seat to get distance from the strange teen who was uncomfortably close.

Obviously he was missing something...

"Cake?"

"Yeah. Mrs. Rose said we have to make one in pairs, and you're the only one without a partner." the teen offered. He was fidgeting nervously, not sure how the new teen would take his words.

Bruce looked around, and sure enough everyone had paired up and were already beginning to take out their supplies and ingredients. A sigh rolled from Bruce. He needed to get a good grade in everything, even this.

Bruce looked at the teen again, taking in his appearance for the first time. The teen was maybe an inch shorter than him and was dressed in a plain white tank-top with a denim overshirt left open and the sleeves rolled up. He had dark-blonde short hair that stood up and a sharp smile was gracing his somewhat handsome face. The teen looked younger than Bruce by maybe a year or two.

Bruce inwardly admitted he didn't have a choice and with a small grumble of sure, turned back to the stationary counter.

Cake huh? That should be simple enough...

A big goofy grin covered the younger teen's face, nearly splitting it in half.

Bruce began to blindly open the cupboards, looking for the measuring tools and mixer and whatever else they would need. The teacher walked by their station and handed the younger teen their instructions on how to make a chocolate cake.

The ingredients were already on the table and the younger of the two began on mixing and measuring the dry ingredients; flour, sugar, baking soda, salt, and cocoa. Wordlessly Bruce began on the wet ingredients; vinegar, vegetable oil, vanilla, eggs, and water.

As they were doing this the younger teen took it as a chance to strike up a conversation.

"Sooo." the teen began casually, "What's your name?"

"Bruce." Came the curt answer; he wasn't feeling very talkative.

"That's cool. I'm Clint by the way." a pause, "So what school were you from before? Was it a big school?"

No answer.

"Uh...Okay, do you miss your friends from there?"

Bruce rose an eyebrow but still remained silent.

"How come you moved here by the way?" a pause, "Have you made any friends from here yet?" the questions tumbled from the teens mouth one after another. Bruce wasn't used to talking much.

"Clint?" that was the first thing that clicked in Bruce's head. The inquisitive teen, Clint, nodded eagerly. Bruce had heard what the other teen had said about his old school and old friends-something Bruce didn't care to talk about.

But Clint was still looking up at him expectantly, probably waiting for his answers. Instead of trying to answer him Bruce opted to ask his own question.

"What about you?" Bruce kept his question as vague as possible, allowing the teen to interpret it however he wished.

Clint either didn't notice that Bruce had just avoided answering his questions or he didn't care. He didn't seem to mind either way as he began to answer.

"Me? I've gone to this school my whole life. It's okay here. I have friends if you'd like to meet them. We always hang out in room 108 during lunch. You're welcome to join us any time." his pale green eyes seemed to light up with excitement, "I'm sure you could use some friends being the new guy and all." he was grinning wider than Bruce even thought possible. Bruce was only half listening to him, and had only caught that the kid had friends that he wanted Bruce to meet.

"Oh, I'm done with the measuring and stuff, how about you?" Clint seemed to suddenly notice his bowl of dry ingredients was complete. Bruce looked down at his own mixture absently, happy for the distraction. He could just imagine the teen's friends—curious and excitable just like him. Being stuck in a room with them was probably the last thing he wanted.

"Yeah, I'm ready." he said flatly and took the dry mixture and added it to his own. Clint took a nearby stool and watched as Bruce skillfully pushed and stirred the two mixtures into one.

"Wow, you're really good at that." Clint said offhandedly.

Bruce frowned uncomfortably, "It's just mixing." he answered dully and passed the bowl and spoon to his partner. The teen took it with a impish smile and began to stir a little less fluidly then Bruce had done.

"I don't even know why we have to take home ec, cooking is a girl thing." the younger paused for a second before looking at Bruce and adding, "But don't tell Natasha I said that. She'd kill me."

For a brief second Bruce wondered who Natasha was, but then decided it was just another person he didn't care about and so he dismissed the thought.

"So what grade are you in?" Clint asked Bruce and gave one more circular stir before setting down the bowl for Bruce to take over.

Bruce looked over the batter and deciding it was mixed well enough he pulled out a cake tin and began spooning the mixture into it.

"I'm a senior." Bruce answered and distantly wondered if he was actually getting used to the teen's topic hopping.

"Wow. Most of the students in here are freshmen and some sophomores! I'm a sophomore."

Bruce allowed a groan to leave his throat, "I know." He showed how displeased he was at the fact that he was the only senior but didn't verbally complain.

Clint took in the unhappy tone of Bruce's voice before asking his next question.

"So how come you're taking this now? Did your last school not offer it? I bet you went to a huge school huh? I heard a rumor that you're the son of some rich politician. Do they not have home ec at rich schools?"

Bruce allowed his lip to quirk up for a moment at the younger teen and how curious and maybe a little pushy he was.

"I don't know about other schools but my old school didn't offer it-I don't think." he finished with a little uncertainty. It was entirely possible that his old school HAD offered it but he had never looked for it.

"Ah." Clint for once seemed to have run out of questions.

Bruce reached down to the stove and pushed some buttons to adjust the heat to the right temperature before placing the cake inside.

Now all that was left was waiting, and then frosting the cake. The two had seemed to have finished earlier then the others and Bruce began to clean up the supplies and return them to their home.

The teacher walked by slowly, her eyes passed over her new and oldest student in approval. Apparently he had made a good first impression.

Bruce took his seat also since the batter was cooking.

"So..." Clint started once the teacher had passed and Bruce tried to keep from grimacing.

"What?" Bruce said with obvious reluctance. He hadn't meant to and he instantly felt a little bad for it but not nearly bad enough to apologize.

However, Clint didn't seem to even notice, continuing as if Bruce had asked him nicely.

"I heard that you got expelled from your last school because you broke the principal's nose, is it true?"

Bruce blinked, a little stunned at the rumors this kid had heard.

"No." Bruce replied flatly as he returned a scowl to his face.

"Yeah, I didn't really believe it anyway." Clint said but Bruce still saw a little relief flash over his face.

"So what are you doing during lunch? My friend Tony isn't very good at video games. Do you like video games?"

"Uh..." Bruce shifted his eyes to the stove under the counter. The timer was almost up so he decided that was a perfect time to check

"So...your friend... He isn't good at video games?" Bruce shifted the conversation away from himself.

"No. He almost never wins! And he's a sore loser! He says he'd prefer to go on dates rather then virtually beat someone up-but he's not very good at flirting either. He's so cheesy when he tries that the girls just laugh AT him instead of with him." it worked and all Bruce had to do was keep the conversation on this Tony guy and he wouldn't have to talk about his own past.

"He likes to go shopping more than any other guy I know." Clint added. Sometime over their conversation he had calmed down to a more normal talking speed.

"Oh yeah?" Bruce asked, his tone expressing as little interest as possible, "Does he also like bubble baths, long walks on the beach, going to the mall, and romantic dramas?"

"Actually yeah." Clint said very matter-of-factly, "Except for he doesn't like to shop for boring stuff. He always complains when Natasha drags him along to go grocery shopping."

There was a small pause on Bruce's part; he couldn't decide whether the other teen was kidding or not. Then as a distraction for himself he turned around and saw the timer was only a few seconds from buzzing so he stopped the timer just before it went off. He carefully covered his hands and grabbed out the cake tin. Then skillfully flipped it out of the tin and onto a plate so that it could cool down.

A frown pulled onto his lips. This kid and his friends were definitely weird. The Tony guy sounded gay.

Clint pulled out the already prepared chocolate frosting, luckily they didn't have to make that also, and spread a generous amount onto the top of the cake.

"I love frosting!" he grinned as he spread it over the top and added another glob of the sugary heart attack. Bruce winced at the excess of frosting Clint was spreading onto the cake. He wasn't much into frosting, it was always too sugary for his tastes.

"Wow! We're the first ones done!" Clint observed once he was done spreading the frosting.

Mrs. Rose took that as her cue and approached the teens. She first examined the cakes appearance, it hadn't crumbled or burnt so that was good, then she cut a thin slice from the cake and placed it onto her own small plate.

She took a tentative bite, and after finding that there was nothing wrong she nodded approvingly and took another.

She didn't tell the teens if they had passed her test or not but she did tell them that they could take the cake home. Clint let out a small whoop at the news and eagerly reached down into their stations drawer, pulling out some containers for their prize.

Bruce didn't particularly want the cake, but he figured that he could give some to his uncle, so when the shorter teen passed over a third of the cake in a container Bruce didn't reject it.

Clint said something about him giving the rest which he had cut into four pieces to his friends and foster dad but by then Bruce wasn't listening again. How had he even started to talk to the teen? He hadn't meant to talk to anyone...

Bruce absently stuffed the container into his backpack.

When the bell rang Bruce was the first out, he risked a glance behind himself to find unfamiliar faces; it seemed like he had lost Clint.

But soon Bruce found the younger teen flanking him, asking what class he had next.

Bruce mentally groaned and curtly answered him, to which Clint gave him unasked for directions. Bruce gruffly replied a thanks and stalked into the direction that Clint had given him.

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A week passed quickly since then. Clint would verbally assault Bruce with nonstop chatter and questions. Over the weeks the older had grown somehow attuned to it, giving indirect grunts here or there and occasionally a terse answer. During lunches he found his sanctuary in the form of some abandoned bleachers towards the back of the school. The bleachers faced a large green football field, were metal, and in the overcast weather they felt cool. Bruce didn't care because it was just what he wanted-a quiet spot away from curious eyes.

When the beginning of fifth period was only fifteen minutes away he decided that he would go to his next class early. He'd been late to two of his classes already since the bleachers were so far out of the way, so he figured if he started now he would be more than safe.

So, ten minutes early, Bruce stepped into the classroom. His eyes instantly took in the room; it was set up in rows of desks with the teachers desk to the side. There were pictures and drawings covering the far walls with what Bruce assumed were past projects by students.

"You came!" a loud voice called from the corner next to him, scaring the teen who had thought he was alone in the room. Bruce looked over to see a familiar face. That teen from home ec which had been bothering him for the past week, Clint.

"Uh...?" Bruce blanched. He looked back to where he had come from as if he had just walked through a portal to another world. His eyes focused on the room number and he found his answer there-room 108. The number that Clint had told him about a whole week ago.

"Shit." Bruce cursed too low for the other teen or his company to hear. Bruce had meant to avoid the teen until he forgot or lost interest in him.

"Come on over Bruce!" Clint cheerfully invited, throwing his arm up and pulling it towards himself in a waving motion.

Bruce paused for a second; he could still walk out, say he had the wrong room or something.

"Come on Clint. He's probably too cool to associate with us." a teen beside Clint spoke up. He was lounging casually on top of a desk.

Bruce blinked slightly in shock, then narrowed his eyes at the teen.

The teen lounging on the desk seemed to be the same age as him, maybe even in the same grade. He had chaotic black hair and was wearing a black t-shirt with jeans that were ripped naturally at the knees. He looked familiar to Bruce but he couldn't place him. His hard, syrup brown eyes were examining Bruce also.

"No he's not! He's really a nice guy!" the youngest protested towards his friend then turned his attention back at Bruce, "Right Bruce?" he sought reassurance.

Bruce didn't really care what they thought of him, but that guy with the chaotic hair had challenged him-so just to annoy him he nodded his head once, "Right...Clint."

The teens name came out weirdly and foreign from his mouth but still had the same effect on the other guy. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before they narrowed dangerously.

Clint seemed happy though and before a second even passed he had grabbed hold of Bruce's arm and was dragging the taller teen closer to his friends.

"Where'd you meet him?" the other guy asked Clint while looking at Bruce with poorly hidden suspicion.

"We have home ec together!"

"Ooooh, are you guys raising a baby together and practicing putting condoms on bananas?"

Bruce frowned, turning his glare onto the young man who stared so smugly. "No," he answered, shortly, deciding this Tony wasn't worth the effort of using any more words than necessary. Bruce was about to add that he didn't mean to walk into their group when Clint interrupted, remembering belatedly that he hadn't introduced them all.

"OH! Bruce this is Tony." he gestured to the glaring teen.

"-and this is Natasha." he motioned to the redhead, "And Pepper," this time the ginger, "Everyone this is Bruce. He's new." Clint finished up his introduction and Bruce felt ingrained manners overpower his annoyance.

He grudgingly offered an acceptable greeting back.

"Is he the new student who got expelled for throwing a chair at his teacher?" Natasha asked with only slight interest. She was pretty Bruce observed, but she also seemed to be a tomboy, and scarlet hair wasn't really Bruce's thing.

Clint looked to Bruce with slight shock, his eyes asking if the rumor held any truth.

Bruce just groaned, "Who is spreading these rumors?"

"So it's not true?" Clint asked bluntly.

"Of course not!" Bruce barked indignantly.

Clint seemed to be relieved again. Honestly how gullible was this teen?

"Then you didn't get arrested four times for being in a gang? And you didn't set fire to your psychiatrists office?" This time it was Pepper.

"No!" Bruce denied it vehemently.

"Honestly, I need to find whoever's coming up with this stuff." he said but his voice had lost it's edge and sounded more like dark humor. Whoever was creating these rumors certainly had a creative mind at least.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Tony spoke, "You wouldn't last a minute in a gang."

Bruce didn't know if he should be insulted that Tony had said he was weak or more annoyed that someone had even suggested he was in a gang.

"I hate gangs anyway." Bruce growled. It was the truth. He had always hated anyone associated with gangs and had even gotten in some 'heated arguments' about it.

"Good." Tony's smile was more challenging than anything else, "Because if you were then I'd really have to keep you away from my friends." he punched his fist against his palm, probably trying to look intimidating, and maybe it'd work if Bruce wasn't sure he could take the other senior in a fight. Tony seemed to be goading Bruce to prove him wrong by picking a fight.

Bruce glanced at Pepper, she looked shocked and like she wanted to oppose his comment but she didn't voice her argument.

The bell chose that moment to ring, as if telling the teenagers to calm down.

Clint, Pepper, and Natasha all stood and waved their goodbyes. Clint said something about how they should hang out after school before he left.

Only Tony was left of the original gang, and he was looking at the other teen bemused.

"What? You have this class?" he seemed to not like Bruce for some reason, which was probably best since Bruce still didn't want to make any friends.

Bruce didn't dignify that with an answer and instead took the seat one behind Tony. He had been assigned that seat and before he had no problems with it. His assigned partner was quiet, and frequently absent, both of which Bruce had no problem with.

Tony was still staring at him, an inscrutable look on his face. He was probably still trying to piece together his broken brain.

Students began to file in, some chatting with classmates while others went straight to their seats.

The teacher, Mr. Coulson, entered a little after the tardy bell rang. He was a timid man around his forties. He stood in front of the class, tucking in his dress shirt before racking his hands through his shortish brown hair.

Class started again and Bruce fell into the familiar ritual of listening to history that he already knew. Afterwards Bruce realized to his displeasure that he and Tony shared PE as well.

.

.

.

After school Bruce walked out front to find that Clint and his two friends were surrounding his motorcycle, as if he hadn't parked it there every day for the last week.

For a second he paused in plain sight, wondering if they were there because they knew it was his motorcycle. A gust of wind blew against Bruce's back and past, as if urging him to go forward, telling him that they would more or less easily accept him into their group and that he could easily make friends with them.

Tony's head abruptly jerked in Bruce's direction and Bruce quickly ducked behind a nearby car. He cursed under his breath at his sucky luck. After a few seconds he risked a glance over the car hood; Tony had returned his attention to his friends. Bruce sighed and waited, hoping they would move on quickly. Now that he was ducked behind a car he was stuck there until they left: he couldn't very well pop up from there like 'Hey guys! Bruce here!'

"Whoa! Whose do you think this is?" Clint ogled the sleek motorcycle and it's black base paint with steel gray tribal patterns, "Check out that paint! I bet this goes faster than a race car!"

"I guess it's kinda cool." Tony offered indifferently despite his eyes scanning over the Kawasaki's impressive design.

"Tony, stop trying to act all cool." Natasha chided him.

"We should go. What if the owner comes and sees us looking at his motorcycle? He'd think we're either creepy or thieves." with that Tony glanced around again as if expecting the owner to be coming.

"I've never seen it before." Clint was still smiling that goofy ear-to-ear smile of his, "But I'm sure if the owner came over we could talk and then be friends."

"It probably belongs to some huge biker guy with a braided beard." Tony snarked.

"Hey do you think it's Bruce's?" Natasha spoke. Bruce hadn't heard her talk much but she seemed to be the logical one of the group. She was at least able to put two and two together.

Tony paused for a second as if taking in the information. He liked to think of himself as a pragmatic man-but he still couldn't see the new kid being cool enough to ride such a stylish ride.

"I don't know." he finally gave in with a shrug.

"I bet it is!" Clint happily chirped.

"Whatever. Let's go." Tony had lost interest and just wanted to get away from school.

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.

.

"Welcome back Bruce. How was your day at school?" He had asked that same question every day Bruce got home, and he still wondered if he'd ever get used to someone caring about something as mundane as how his school day was.

Bruce glanced at his uncle.

Will was sipping tea and had placed a book on his lap at Bruce's entrance.

"Did you make any friends?" he asked with a quick glance at his nephew.

Bruce paused. Friends? He didn't really think of the three from before as friends...

Bruce just shrugged in response and directed a question back at his uncle, "Do you have all the stuff you need to open the shop?"

"Yes." William answered with a gentle smile, thinking that it was nice of his nephew to ask.

"I was just wondering what I should name the shop..." William wanted Bruce to help come up with a name for the tea shop and Bruce recognized that.

"Do you have any idea's Bruce?" he asked benevolently and with patience that only came with age.

Not really putting any effort into it he shrugged and offered, "Will's Tea?" He had never been very creative so he merely put his uncle's first name in front of tea.

A small chuckle happily came from his uncle, "That's very..." but he apparently had no positive words to describe the name because he just said, "I'll think about that." with a gentle and understanding smile.

Bruce nodded.

* * *

_So that was chapter one. I am a very needy author so I feed and love and live on comments from you guys. Don't be shy. _

_William Walters is actually Bruce's uncle and she-hulks dad, but I decided it'd be too hard to incorporate his wife and child into the story so Bruce has a single Uncle William._

_**Remember that reviews motivate me to write! ^^ So show your love for Bruce and Tony by clicking that review button!**_


	2. Chapter 2: First Male Friend

**Chapter two:**

The next day Bruce woke up with just as much effort and just as slowly. But instead of helping Bruce up his uncle merely shook him until he was awake enough to get himself up.

The hours in school passed by quickly enough. Bruce had made sure to avoid Clint and his group during lunch, although that didn't stop Clint from talking Bruce's ear off during home ec. Bruce would ignore him and Clint would continue anyway. Today was no exception as Clint talked to Bruce again during home ec and then invited Bruce to hang out with him and Tony after school since Natasha would be busy with tutoring some jocks. As an answer Bruce grunted noncommittally. During lunch Bruce avoided entering his fifth period class until after the bell rang. Tony kept his eyes forward for the whole history class. Occasionally Bruce would cough into his fist, just to see the other teen's back muscles stiffen. Oh yeah, Tony was aware that Bruce was there and he was also making a conscious effort to look only where he was supposed to. Bruce found it amusing to play with him and caught himself smirking a few time.

After school Bruce stepped out to the front of the building only to feel a pair of sharp eyes piercing him.

Tony stood leaning against the wooden sign. He was staring intimidatingly at Bruce. For a second Bruce wondered what he had done to make the other teen hate him, but his thoughts were quickly cut short.

"TONY! OVER HERE!" Clint grabbed Bruce's arm and began pulling him towards the glaring teen. Clint seemed to be oblivious to how wide Bruce's eyes were or how he had almost caused the taller teen to have a heart attack.

"Why do you keep dragging him along?" Tony spoke when Clint and Bruce reached him, "It's obvious he doesn't want to hang out with us." the teen was taller by only an inch but with his confidence you'd think he was a foot taller.

Bruce had actually been wondering the same thing but he'd be damned if he'd ever admit it.

"That's not true! Bruce said he would hang out with us!" Clint exclaimed, "Right Bruce?" he was looking at Bruce again for affirmation.

The older teen's eyes fell on Bruce, if not a bit angrily.

"Uh...what?" Bruce blankly stared between the two. He was about to add that he'd never agreed on this whole 'hanging out' thing, when Clint interrupted.

"See!" Clint chirped as if he had agreed.

Tony looked between the two teens before he let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that once his friend got an idea then there was no going against it.

"Whatever." he grumbled, "I'll go along with your little plan and we'll all go merrily strolling around-but if I find out this guy," he pointed at Bruce accusingly, "likes burning psychiatrist offices in his free time, then I'm out."

"No promises." Bruce spoke dryly and when Tony was caught off guard for a second Bruce couldn't hold back the complacent smirk that mischievously pulled at his lips.

Tony's eyes quickly narrowed and he grumbled something about Bruce being a smart ass but didn't protest any more. Tony took the lead and Bruce was somehow corralled into following.

"Don't worry." Clint took a spot beside Bruce as they walked, "Tony just likes to act like a tough guy, he's really a softy once you get to know him."

Bruce had no clue where they were walking other than in the direction of the parking lot but he didn't care to ask either. He'd probably just get a sarcastic reply from Tony anyway.

"Yeah?" Bruce glanced at Tony's back, absently watching the way that the teen lead them.

"Yeah." Clint agreed and then added offhandedly, "He cries every time we watch The Titantic or The Notebook."

Bruce chuckled a little at this, though he belatedly tried to hide it behind his fist. He cried? He'd have to remember that for future torture. Whoa. Future?

"I knew you could smile!" Clint whispered for only Bruce to hear; he was grinning in that goofy ear-to-ear way that he did.

"What?" Bruce blinked and his smile disappeared in the confusion.

"There's also a rumor that you never smile." Clint explained.

"Does your school always make so many rumors about the new kid?"

"Hmm...not that I know of..." he said slowly, then returned to his usual upbeatness, "I think it's just you." he was smiling but Bruce didn't like it.

Absently he frowned and began to wonder why...

As if reading his mind Clint continued.

"I think it's because you're so mysterious. That's why I like you too. You're cool."

Bruce was shocked for a moment and his eyes widened. He drew back instinctively, eyeing the younger teen like he might be diseased before he realized that Clint didn't mean it in any special way. Of course... a small wave of relief swept over Bruce at this realization.

A little more relaxed Bruce glanced at Tony now, "Mysterious huh?" his voice conveyed bitter sarcasm but secretly he was amused by it.

"Yeah. You come to the school and don't say a word to anyone and there's all these bad ass rumors about you."

A frown pulled at Bruce's lips, "Well sorry to disappoint you but I didn't throw chairs at teachers or burn some psychiatrist's office or strangle puppies or whatever else they came up with. So I guess I'm not as 'mysterious' as you thought."

"Nah," Clint replied, offering an unabashed grin. "It just means you probably won't burn my house. Do you live near the school?" he asked.

"Not really." he answered and tried to remember what he had passed to get to and from school before shrugging, "My uncle's opening up a tea shop less then a block from where we live." he offered, hoping that maybe Clint would know where that was.

He could see it was a long shot by how Clint's eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. He was about to tell him never mind but he was interrupted again.

"OH! I heard about that from my dad!" Bruce could literally see the moment when it clicked in his mind.

"So did your uncle come up with a name for the tea shop yet?"

"No...I guess he's still working on that." Bruce shrugged and then realized that Tony and Clint had slowed down. He matched their pace until they stopped in front of a car that looked like it had survived through more decades than a car should.

"What is it?" Bruce stared at the teal, bulky Chevy from the seventies.

"It's a car!" Tony cried indignantly, his voice cracking slightly. It seemed like it did that every time he raised his voice too much.

Bruce eyed the car again. He didn't even know what make it was, not that he was that into cars or even knew that much about them.

He shrugged it away, it didn't matter what model it was anyway, "Is it safe?" he looked at the back bumper that showed signs of some rust beginning.

"That's what I first wondered." Clint chirped in, "But I've been in it a lot and it's been safe so far."

He assured Bruce while wearing that insanely big grin. Geez, does this kid ever NOT smile?

"Why does everyone pick on my car?" Tony complained with a slam of the door behind him.

Clint was the one to answer his complaint, "We're not making fun of your car." he held up his hands placatingly, "We're just worried for our lives."

Tony just mumbled under his breath as the two teens stepped into his light blue car; Clint in the front and Bruce in the back. The car looked like there were no recent modifications done to it. Distantly it smelled of old leather and soap. WHY it smelled of soap Bruce had no clue.

Tony started driving and Bruce just sat back, wondering if his uncle would worry if he didn't go directly home. But somehow he couldn't imagine his uncle worried; he seemed too permanently calm and collected.

"So Bruce, do you have anything you like to do?" Clint asked from the passengers seat.

"Uh..." Bruce paused. Something he liked to do? It was at that moment that it occurred to him that he had always done what his father wanted him to do and never really had a hobby of his own.

"...play video games?" he gave an answer that seemed appropriate and hoped he hadn't messed up.

"That's great. We have a gazillion video games at my house. Oh. Do you like animals? I want to get a dog but the neighbors all have cats."

"Uhh...I'm sorry?" Again Bruce offered what he thought was the right answer.

"Yeah," Clint's lips pouted out and he seemed sad for a second.

But then his usual self came back, "My dad says we're gonna get a dog soon though. A big one. When we get him, you and Tony should come over and see him."

"Sure?"

"Great."

"Hey, you're dad's not making that health stuff again is he?" Tony decided then to chime in.

Clint scrunched his face, "You know he doesn't eat meat." he seemed to of explained this many times before.

"Fine, then I'm not eating over. I'm a growing teen and I need real meat." Tony intoned.

"Come onnnn Tony." Clint whined and pouted his lips, "It's only one day."

Tony didn't answer.

Bruce was sitting in the backseat observing the scene between the two teens and wondering if that's how people normally acted. He'd certainly never acted like that with William or Rick and he would NEVER in his life act like that towards his father.

"Uh..." Bruce wanted to ask them if they could just drop him off around his apartment when again Clint spoke first.

"We're here." he almost yelled. The second the car stopped in front of a small yellow house Clint jumped out.

Bruce examined the house that Clint was running to. It was small, but had a relaxed, happy feeling to it that his father's house, for all its size and grandeur, could never have. The yard was nice sized with a stone pathway that lead to the door and a metal weaved fence that separated it from the sidewalk. Bruce then saw Clint disappear into the house.

"Geez, there he goes again." Tony remarked from the drivers seat as he pulled the keys out of the car and put on the emergency brake.

Tony swung the heavy door open with a very slight creak and after he closed it he looked back to Bruce who was still sitting dumbfounded in the backseat.

"Are you coming or should I lock you in there?" Tony peered in through the window. He seemed neither friendly nor unfriendly.

Bruce didn't say anything, he just pushed the heavy door open and climbed out. Tony caught the door and closed it for him.

The two teens started heading towards the yellow house together in what could only be described as an unfamiliar silence.

"So..." Tony started somewhat hesitantly. He didn't know anything about the other teen, but he figured if Clint saw something good in him then he couldn't be all that bad.

"Uh...why...did you, um, transfer to Shield?" he glanced at the other teen. Bruce was at least an inch shorter than Tony. Noticing this also, Bruce instinctively straightened up a little more, trying to lessen the difference.

"My uncle is opening a tea shop." Bruce answered stiffly.

"Oh...right." Tony glanced around for inspiration for another topic.

"So how come you live with your uncle?" Tony asked what he thought was a reasonable question.

For a brief second Bruce eyes narrowed, filled with a myriad of imperceptible emotions. So subtle but obvious that Tony couldn't understand. And just as quickly as the emotions had come, they had disappeared; dwindling down to one feeling-surreptitious. Then a firm scowl covered his face. Tony gathered that for some reason that was something which Bruce was not willing to talk about.

Tony realized at that moment all the reasons that a person could be living with someone other then their parents; and none of them were good. Death. Tony frowned, he understood that.

Bruce kept his frown as he reached out to open the screen door and then the solid red door.

Tony noticed that, although Bruce seemed to naturally be stiff, he was stiffer then usual.

"I'm sorry..." Tony didn't know why but he felt the strong need to apologize. It felt like he had somehow just stepped on a land mine that ran deep into Bruce.

It took Bruce a second to realize that he should say something.

"It's, uh, it's fine. It's not like, uh, it's just complicated." he scratched at the back of his neck, wanting to explain things more coherently but not knowing how. He didn't want to go into the whole Rick and father thing...'it's complicated' always seemed to be the safest answer. People never really asked past that.

"Yeah." Tony looked around the room like he had never seen it before, like every familiar part of the room had been replaced now that Bruce was there.

"Clint's gonna wonder why we're taking so long if we don't hurry up..." he mumbled just loud enough for Bruce to hear.

"Yeah." the second oldest agreed.

.

.

.

Clint's room was interesting. It was decorated in bright colors and looked just like what you'd expect of a fifteen or sixteen year olds room but it seemed to fit him well enough.

Bruce walked in behind Tony and had to resist the urge to block his eyes against the myriad of colors-with a surprising amount of purple.

"So what kind of games do you like to play?" Clint was sitting cross-legged in front of a whole bookshelf of video games.

Bruce flicked his eyes over the games. He hadn't heard of most of them. He didn't think that Clint would be such a video game enthusiast...

Bruce hadn't really played video games before either...

"This one." Bruce pointed to the most violent looking one. It was a PS3 game that had zombies and blood splatters depicted on the cover, and in the background Bruce could have sworn he saw brain matter splattering out of some girls head and onto a car that was ablaze.

"I love this one." Clint chirped and somehow Bruce knew that he would say that no matter what he picked. The kid probably loved them all.

Clint quickly slid the game into his PS3 and then handed Bruce a controller before bouncing on his bed.

"Tony plays the loser!" Clint declared happily.

"Hey! How come I play the loser?" Tony seemed insulted by the declaration. Clint knew he was only arguing to defend his honor though and that he probably preferred it that way.

"'cause you couldn't win against the best." Clint declared, and since the menu had finished loading he began to set up the game.

For Bruce's part, the game was a lot harder than he expected. Zombies jumped right in front of the screen and would always deal critical damage to him while Clint just easily flicked them away and continued on his own zombie-killing way. It wasn't versus but Bruce still thought of it as a competition. He was trying and failing to shoot zombies without harming pedestrians or falling into hidden traps that only Clint seemed to know about.

Near the end, kills for Bruce were so rare that the group began to whoop and cheer every time he killed one.

Once Bruce's number of lives finally ran out Clint grinned and paused the game for them.

"Your turn Tony." He chirped and after resetting the game to a different area and changing up everything on Bruce who was just beginning to get a hold of the map, he tossed the controller to Tony who caught it ungracefully.

The combined suckiness of Tony and Bruce working together was so horrible that the games would be so short that they just kept restarting and restarting.

After a few times of restarting the teens started to care less about winning, they began to fire the weapon without aiming at all. One game round they both closed their eyes and shot off at whatever direction they 'felt' the zombies in.

Laughter from Clint filled the room when Bruce accidentally shot and killed Tony in one round. Bruce masked his small snicker by a cough into his fist while Tony was voicing his complaints about his 'comrade' secretly being in league with the zombies.

After a while Clint's foster dad decided that it was time for dinner and invited the teens down to eat.

When Bruce came down the stairs along with the other two there was a moment of shock on Clint's foster dad's face. Apparently he hadn't known that his son had invited someone outside the usual group over.

"Dad. This is Bruce. He's new to our school. We have home ec together." Clint introduced them before taking his seat at the table.

Bruce as a sort of reflex that had been ingrained into him since birth, respectfully extended his hand at the older man before politely introducing himself using his full name and his relationship with the man's son. He also added in his gratitude for being allowed into his house and for the meal.

Clint's dad was impressed with the teen's respect and got the hint that he had been raised in a strict and most likely rich family.

A smile swept over the man's features and he gently put his hand on Bruce's shoulder, not oblivious to how the teenager slightly stiffened under his touch, "You're welcome here anytime Bruce. You seem like a fine young man." He said and felt the muscles under his hand slacken to a more relaxed nature.

Bruce didn't realize how touching such simple words could be and he didn't realize how softly he was smiling.

Tony smiled as he looked at them from his seat. He had known Mr. Barton to be an excellent judge of character, so that Bruce had passed the test was a good sign; and although Clint was much like his father in good judgement, Tony also had his doubts since Clint was still too young and trusting in some aspects.

.

.

.

Dinner passed by with Bruce being told stories about Tony and Clint. Tony had apparently once as a kid stepped onto a nail while helping the Barton's make a birdhouse-and then tried to use another nail to hook the first out. Then there was some time when Tony got injured so bad he had to go to the hospital, after getting his medical needs the nurse hooked him up to an IV and Tony got wide-eyed and panicky when he'd been told a bubble was coming towards him in the IV. Clint had apparently at that time also gotten (fake) frantic and had ran outside to get a nurse. The nurse and him both came running and the nurse had to hold Tony down to get him to not tear the IV out.

Bruce had witty responses to all of these stories, playfully teasing the embarrassed, whining teen. The dinner table was loud and full of laughter and reminiscing memories; something Bruce could never remember his own table being. It was strange but Bruce caught himself a few times thinking that they were friends; and after a few time, he stopped catching himself.

.

.

.

"We'll have to hang out again!" Clint called after the two smiling teens as they left his house into the already dark night.

"It was a pleasure to have met you Bruce. Please come again." Mr. Barton stood behind Clint with a gentle smile.

"Yeah." Bruce smiled back and waved goodbye to them with Tony.

They entered the car, alone together again.

"So where do you live?" Tony asked as he stuck the keys in and twisted them, starting the car.

Bruce paused, he hardly knew how to get home in the light, let alone the dark.

"I...don't know exactly." he looked blankly out the front window trying to appear as relaxed and casual as he could.

"What?" Tony's pitch raised and threatened to crack, "How do you not know where you live?" he complained.

"I-I've only driven in the day okay. I use landmarks." Bruce felt the need to defend himself and felt his cheeks lightly color despite his wishes.

"Listen I can call my uncle and he'll pick me up from wherever we are—" he fumbled his hands to his pocket "Shit." he mumbled, feeling an empty pocket.

"What?" Tony's eyes widened a little, "What?" he demanded again impatiently.

"I forgot my phone."

"Where?" Tony's voice managed to crack on a single word.

"On my bed okay?" Bruce snapped a little, hardly in the mood to be questioned.

"Then you can just use mine." Tony said hastily before fishing into his pocket and pulling out his own cell. Tony shoved the phone into Bruce's hands and waited for him to make the call, staring at him expectantly.

There was a small pause as the two sat in the dark of the car with the light rumble of the aged car's engine.

"I…don't know his number." Bruce admitted shamefully just loud enough for Tony to hear.

"Are you serious?" Tony accidentally raised his voice with shock and missed how the younger teen instinctively stiffened.

"I never had to remember it before." Bruce felt a wave of chagrin sweep over him and at that moment he just wanted to duck his head into his knees and hide.

Tony heaved a heavy sigh, a curse escaped his lips as he tried to think of a way to get Bruce home without any real guide.

"If I drove you around would you be able to recognize something and guide us from there?" he asked hopefully.

Bruce just shrugged, "It's worth a try…"

Another sigh from beside him and the car began to move.

Tony drove down street after street, hoping that the other teen would recognize at least one landmark before they ran out of gas; but after almost an hour it was obvious that they both were getting no where and were only getting more frustrated for their efforts.

"Let's just go to my house." Tony grumbled defeatedly.

Bruce frowned. The last time he had been at another persons house was with Rick and well...that had gone nothing like how Bruce wanted things to go with Tony.

Tony felt Bruce's hesitation and felt the need to ease it as best he could, "Don't worry. My old man's always away on business. Just don't get lost in my house okay?" a choked laugh came from him; his attempt at humor.

Bruce eyed the older of the two like he was insane and then, after a second, cracked a ghost of a smile. It could hardly be called a smile; it was just a slight tug of one corner of his lip, but Tony saw it and was instantly lifted into cloud nine by it.

It was right then that Tony realized that he liked having a male friend around his age. Clint was a sophomore and acted as immature as a thirteen year old sometimes and Natasha and Pepper were, well, girls. He'd never had a guy friend his age. A grin took place on Tony's face, unbeknownst to him.

A minute or two passed as Tony changed the direction of the car and headed towards his own home.

Tony was in a state of reverie when Bruce's voice snatched him from his pleasant daydreaming.

"What?" his voice was impatient and demanding.

"Huh?" Tony quickly glanced at Bruce; he was staring at him through narrowed, suspicious eyelids.

Tony's heart beat dangerously fast. He had no clue what Bruce was asking about but the way his sharp eyes pierced through him made him feel...uncomfortable.

"Why were you smiling?" Bruce kept his veil of suspicion. From what he'd heard about Tony the older teen could very well be gay.

"Huh? Was I smiling?" Tony asked faking innocence, or maybe not, Bruce didn't know.

"I guess it's just 'cause you're the first male friend I've had that's around my age." it was the truth but the way he said it couldn't even convince himself, yet it felt like he was revealing something so intimate.

Bruce was about to say that they weren't friends but then decided maybe they were.

So he opted to saying, "What? No one in your grade likes you?" he had no reason to believe the other would lie and he seemed like an honest person-maybe too honest at times.

"Lots of people like me!" Tony's whiny voice cracked in no less then two places. He coughed into his hand then continued steadily, "I've just never really been close to them."

Bruce nodded slowly before saying something he never thought he'd say, much less to someone he'd only met a week or so ago; "I only had one friend before in my first school and it kind of didn't go that well."

Tony caught and absorbed the information quickly, he hadn't realized before how curious he was about the other teen's past. Maybe it's because of the rumors that he was curious what was true and what wasn't but his instincts told him that it was a rare thing for Bruce to willingly talk about his past, so he continued cautiously.

"Is that why you transferred here?"

"Sort of. I moved in with my uncle and went to another school for two months before here." Bruce left out the parts about Rick and about his father kicking him out.

"Oh." Tony almost asked the same question about Bruce's uncle and then thought better of it. If he needed to know then he would find out one way or another: maybe Bruce would even tell him willingly.

"So...you're friend, what was he like?"

"He was fine at first, but then some stuff happened and he got really anal about everything. I think he hates me now." Bruce offered a nonchalant shrug as he reassessed everything he'd just said, wondering if he'd given too much information.

"Oh...sorry. My first girlfriend was kinda like that." Tony sympathized.

Bruce scowled and hid the heart attack going on inside behind a calm mask. He was wondering if Tony had said that because he had felt that him and Rick had been more then friends or if it was just because...

"Y-yeah?" Bruce stuttered but his voice stayed loyal and didn't crack or show any signs of nervousness besides his slip of a stutter.

"Yeah." a deep sigh broke through the dimly lit car and Bruce realized how big a car it was but how strangely close he felt.

"So, um, what about you?"

"Huh?" Bruce jerked back instinctively and eyed the other teen like he had grown another head.

"Did you ever have a girlfriend?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Once." Bruce stumbled for words.

"What was she like?" Tony asked with interest, hoping that it was a safe topic.

"She was fine. Well mannered and smart...she wasn't clingy at all; she kinda made me feel clingy with how disinterested she was." Bruce knew that Rick was her exact opposite but when he laid it out like that it really was white against black.

"Is that why you broke it off?" Tony urged him on. He hoped somewhere deep down in his subconscious that Bruce had completely broken it off with her.

"She broke it off with me." a small, short sardonic laugh came out like honey, "She said she was bored and wanted to date someone else. What about you? How'd you and your girlfriend break up?" Bruce turned the conversation off himself.

"Me? Uh, it was kind of long distance and she said that she wanted to date someone closer." he took a hand off the wheel to rub at his neck, "I don't know...I offered to pay for tickets for her and me to meet and all..."

"Maybe she was a he." Bruce teased, a small smirk highlighting his playful features.

"Hey!" his voice squeaked, "Why does everyone say that?!"

"Maybe because she was?" he offered then continued, "She was probably some fifty year old bald guy with a beer-belly that lives in his grandma's basement."

"Oh god." Tony mumbled as he scrunched his face with the image that Bruce had just given him.

"I saw pictures though! She's really pretty!" he protested.

"Photoshop."

"Shut up!" he whined though he didn't mean it; even if he was being teased he liked talking to him.

"Just calling them as I see 'em." Bruce shrugged.

The car lightly rumbled down a unlit street. Medium sized houses and apartments with fences and gates and new dish satellites were illuminated by the headlights of the single teal car strolling down the unfamiliar narrow road. New and shiny looking cars littered the apartment garages and just off the sidewalk.

"Are we near your house?" Bruce looked out the window and saw a single empty lot; a rare thing in New York City.

"Yeah."

Bruce began to examine the stone buildings more closely.

His eyes searched for one that felt like it was Tony's,

Before he could falsely point one out though Tony rolled to a stop slowly and very carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. They had stopped in front of a massive building that was basically a mansion.

"Is it really alright if I stay here?" Bruce wondered aloud.

Tony glanced at the dashboard clock, it already read a little past midnight.

"It's too late now anyway. I think your uncle would understand you staying over." Tony commented then opened his door. The cold air instantly collided with his uncovered skin and caused goosebumps.

"Mm...What about your dad?" Bruce asked as he glanced towards the massive stone building and then followed Tony's lead and climbed out, shut the door, and locked it.

.

.

.

Bruce walked into a foyer that broke into different directions. To the left was a dining room, while to the right was a spacious family room with a flat screen TV. In front of him was a double staircase leading up to the second floor. The fact that there was a second floor at all in the middle of Manhattan New York City was ridiculous.

The inside of the double story house was spacey and modern. It was also organized in a way that felt like everything had been bought from a set and professionally designed. It was obvious that Tony was the only one that was usually there; the family room had that neat, unkempt look that only a teenager could accomplish.

The family room had blankets thrown on the back of the plush leather couch and pillows thrown on it's cushions. Tony led the way, taking slow but deliberate steps. Bruce followed in the same manner. Vaguely he wondered if Tony needed a maid to maintain this place.

There were grand paintings aligning the wall leading up the stairs and Bruce could probably bet with fair safety that one of those paints cost more than he would ever make in a lifetime. The paintings were all modern with sleek strokes and sharp edges. Bruce couldn't help but think they were oddly devoid of emotion as he saw them. The house was lacking in nostalgia and family photos.

Distantly Bruce wondered where Tony's parents were as he passed the painting on his way up.

Tony's room was the first one to the right. They slipped in; Tony again made sure to catch the door and shut it himself.

Once inside Bruce relaxed a little and took in his new surroundings. The room was dimly lit and about double the size of his own room, almost as big as his entire apartment. In the left corner was a king sized bed instead of a queen. Tony also had a laptop in his room-something Bruce had never been allowed to have. Bruce's eyes went to the right wall; a large walk-in closet was open and showed shirts clinging loosely to hangers.

Another look around; a bookshelf, a hanging shelf with small toys on it, a small number of trophies on his dresser, and a flat screen with a game system hooked up to it.

"Uh," Tony searched the ground, "One second." he said before slipping out the room.

In less than a minute he returned with a sleeping bag, two blankets, and a puffy pillow all crammed and stacked into his arms.

"Here." he released his load onto the ground in a messy pile, "My bed or the floor; your choice."

"Uh...thanks?" Bruce looked at the ground and then his pile of blankets. "I'll take the ground."

"No problem." Tony shrugged.

Tony crossed the room and turned on a lamp light that was beside his bed and then went over to turn off the room light by the door. When Tony turned off the light and turned around Bruce was the focus of his attention.

"Aren't you gonna, I don't know, take off anything?" Tony eyed Bruce when he saw the teen was lying on the sleeping bag with all his clothes on and a blanket covering his chest down.

"I get cold easily." Bruce answered curtly.

That was a lie. Not to mention the fact that it was heated in Tony's room. But Tony figured it was probably just because he was modest so he didn't think any further then that.

With a shrug he slipped out of his shirt and pants and then was tucked into his own bed comfortably and the lamp was flicked off.

"Good night." Bruce intoned without any meaning.

"Good night." Tony replied with a minuscule skip of his heart.


	3. Chapter 3: Oppressive Picture

**A/N at the end...**

* * *

**Chapter three:**

"Bruce." Tony pushed at the younger teen's shoulder with his toe, "Wake up."

The curly-haired teen groaned and pushed away Tony's feet, "Uncle?" his voice was deep and gravelly with sleep.

"Yeah. Now get up so I can give you a big bear hug and then we can look through family albums." Tony's sarcasm was just the slap to the face that Bruce needed to wake up. His eyes remained shut but he managed to force his stiff muscles to lurch.

Tony blinked in surprise as Bruce's head emerged from the flannel blankets. His usually barely contained curls were chaotic, pointing in all directions. While Bruce's hair looked like a cocker spaniel had curled up on his head, his eyes were owlish and his upper body muscles inert.

A groan escaped Bruce's lips as the movement had his muscles protesting. He rubbed at his eyes absently with the back of his hand.

"Whe-?" he paused as the memories clicked back into use. He was at Tony's house.

His doe brown pupils were still unfocused as he locked eyes with Tony's own syrup brown eyes.

"Hey." Bruce gave a sleepy grin, which might of more or less been the most adorable thing Tony had ever seen.

Regardless, the raven-haired youth straightened and adjusted his face from poorly concealed adoration to a more stoic expression.

"Breakfast is downstairs. Come down when you're ready."

Tony was gone in a matter of seconds. Bruce blinked in the absence of his companion before he moved on to begin his daily routine.

Bruce blinked his eyes painfully against the unnatural light still streaming into his vision.

"Damn..." he looked down. His whole body was stiff from sleeping on the ground.

Bruce stood up and stretched, slowly feeling his muscles loosen and unknot. He would still be stiff for a while though. He had never slept on the ground in his whole life. If he knew that it would make his muscles so sore then he would have demanded the bed. Against his body's will he dragged himself to an upright standing position and stretched his rigid muscles looser. A few pops and cracks could be heard here or there as he did this.

Once done, he looked to the mess of blankets and covers he had slept in and after a momentary debate with himself he bent down and quickly folded them back up. Vaguely he wondered where he should place the blankets once he was done before he unceremoniously deposited them back onto the floor in a neat pile.

Bruce looked to the doorknob. He could hear Tony pattering around outside the door. He took a second to frown at his lack of clean clothes to change into.

After another second Bruce slowly reached for the door knob and after feeling cold metal he took a deep, steadying breath. Then he pushed the door open like he normally would and walked out nonchalantly.

The first thing he noticed was that Tony was downstairs. The second thing he noticed was the aroma of waffles. He followed the scent to the kitchen where he found Tony standing in front of a toaster with two plates in his hands and a box of frozen waffles on the counter.

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he entered the room. Tony looked over from his task (of waiting for the toaster to ding) and connected eyes with Bruce. Syrup brown to doe brown, they stared for a few uncomfortable seconds before Tony cleared his throat and looked back to the toaster.

"I made waffles." he declared, for lack of anything else to say to break the silence.

Bruce hummed his acknowledgement. The silence returned with gusto, draping a thick blanket of awkward over them. While Bruce didn't seem to mind, it was obvious that it bothered the oldest of the two, with Tony fidgeting and racking his brain for topics.

After a few seconds of watching Tony fidget with the hems of his sleeves Bruce took pity on the other boy and, with a trying sigh, he offered, "I'm sorry you had to have me over."

Tony looked up at Bruce, his syrup brown eyes initially showed surprise at Bruce breaking the silence but then once the words registered they gained a shy spark in them as Tony smiled.

"It's alright." Tony brushed it off with a flick of his wrist, "It wasn't so bad."

Bruce huffed softly with a weak laugh, he felt a corner of his lips quirk up against his will in a sardonic little smile that made his face glow with something that tightened Tony's chest, "It didn't completely suck being around you either."

Tony managed to look indignant only because he thought he needed to be, Bruce however knew he was grinning behind that pout.

.

.

.

Tony took Bruce to school with him in his old Chevy since Bruce's motorcycle was still parked at the school. Halfway there one of Tony's friends, a girl named Pepper, called and Tony began apologizing and explaining the events of the night previous. After Tony hung up Bruce didn't ask what the call had been about. He just sat their silently with the radio in the background until they arrived at the school parking lot.

"Hey Bruce!" Clint greeted a quasi-stiff Bruce and casual Tony at the front of the school, "Did you get home safely?"

Tony spoke from the left, smug as he replied, "No. He had to stay the night at my house."

"Really?" Clint asked incredulously and then looked to Bruce for confirmation, to which Bruce nodded.

"No fair-you have to have a sleepover at my house too Bruce." the sandy blonde put on a pout.

"Mm." Bruce drawled but said no more.

Home ec passed somewhat normally and Bruce even found the younger teen's nonsensical chatter somewhat calming. Bruce was invited again to come with Clint to room 108 during lunch, but he declined with the thought that he really was getting too used to it all. So, as it was, Bruce ate alone at the bleachers and then after the bell he took his time going into class and taking his seat along with the other students.

He found that things were a little different though; instead of Tony adamantly denying Bruce's existence he actually willingly looked back to Bruce as if glancing to see that he hadn't changed seats.

Bruce pretended not to notice and tried focusing his attention on Mr. Coulson and his only slightly interesting lecture on already known history.

.

.

.

It was on his way to the PE lockers that Tony was sideswiped by a slightly irate Pepper Potts. He could tell she was annoyed with him by the stiff line in her lips, the slight flush in her cheeks, and, most importantly, the way she grabbed his shoulder in her vice grip and steered him into the gym. He squawked indignantly the whole way as she drug him not so gently off track. The whole school thought Pepper was the sweetest, most patience angel in the world. Tony, however, knew the fear of Pepper's glare and stiff lip.

And standing in the empty gym with that glare and stiff lip directed at him he felt the apprehension he rightfully should feel.

Tony knew what this was about; he usually drove Pepper to school but with Bruce in the passenger seat he had forgotten her. And when she had called and asked why, Tony told her how Bruce had stayed over and instantly Bruce's reputation preceded him.

Their voices resonated through the double doors of the gymnasium but neither cared.

"What were you thinking bringing him there?" the feminine voice of Pepper was just as intimidating as any mother's scold or principal's glare; it came with the kind of authority that a teenage girl elected as senior class president simply shouldn't have had yet.

"We had no choice okay? He's new to the city and couldn't find his house in the dark!" Tony's voice echoed back, defensive and indignant "And aren't you always the one saying I should help people more?"

"Yeah Tony but he's not-! You don't even know a thing about him! He could be a kleptomaniac for all we know! "

Tony felt his chest tighten with an instinctive need to protect Bruce.

"I know more about him then you do! Besides! You had no problem with him yesterday!"

"That was before you brought him to your house without telling anyone! You heard all the rumors about him."

"Yeah, well, the rumors are wrong." Tony shot back with vehemence. He didn't understand what Pepper's problem was. Sure, Bruce had a bad reputation, but that wasn't his fault. Anyone who spent any actual time with him could tell _that_. And the fact that Pepper just kept ignoring him and pressing was just irritating.

"Tony-"

"You're not my mom Pepper!" He exploded.

The air around them suspended. Tony halted also, waiting to hear the sound of more yelling, thrown PE equipment, or something, anything, but it had gone completely silent. Pepper had an incredulous look frozen on her face. Which was worse than anger really, because it meant he had messed it up fantastically. He could deal with her anger but the second she wasn't angry with him she was pitying him. And he hated that. He hated that so much. Anger he could deal with, anyone could deal with anger, especially Tony, he could bounce it back with the best of them. But pity stuck to him like black goo.

Tony frowned at himself and looked to his feet. He was so _stupid_. Why had he said that?

A second later he heard heels clicking and echoing harshly against the gym floor away from him to the door. Instinctively he looked up only to see Pepper pushing the door open.

.

.

.

After school Bruce was offered a ride home by Tony but he denied it, saying he couldn't leave his motorcycle behind again. At that statement Clint jabbed Tony in the side with his elbow.

Inwardly Bruce smirked as he watched the older wince and the younger try to subtly whisper a 'I told ya so.' with Natasha standing to the side rolling her eyes.

.

.

.

Bruce was humming with nervousness when his footsteps echoed to a stop in front of his small apartment door. He had never been out past curfew-correction; he'd only been out past curfew once and the results had been bad. Very bad. Bruce had always thought that his father had been in the right of course. He had disobeyed.

Bruce closed his eyes against the memories and took a strained breath to get away any unwanted feelings. He breathed again, slowly like meditation; he would enter the house completely calm and not show any weak emotions. He reached for the door knob and his heartbeat leapt to a dangerous speed, running around in his stomach before jamming itself into his ears.

Bu-bum bu-bum.

Bruce cracked the door open slowly, sticking his head in just enough to get a look around the room.

"Welcome home Bruce." a stern but not angry voice greeted him. The voice had the strength of steel and the content of gentle words.

Bruce instinctively looked at his hands, making sure to avoid eye contact. His back stood up straight as he took a single step in so he could be out from behind the door.

"Uncle." Bruce's voice wavered as repressed feelings reached the surface; fear, shame, trepidation, alarm, humiliation, and chagrin at failing his uncle. He quickly pushed them down and regained his stoic façade.

"I'm sorry." his voice was weak and rippled like water. He didn't go any further, schooled not to offer an excuse unless asked for one.

"Bruce..." his uncle's benevolent voice was the opposite of what he expected. His uncle sounded sympathetic, worn, and slightly disappointed, yet Bruce felt that that disappointment wasn't for him.

"Please come here. I know that my brother-in-law has raised you with an iron fist, but..." he searched for Bruce's eyes and when he didn't find them he frowned wistfully, "Bruce..." his voice was barely a whisper but snapped the teenager's eyes to him, "You are able to be yourself here." it was almost a plea.

Bruce passionately protested "But I didn't-" despite his insides unknotting.

His uncle raised his hand to silence his nephew.

"We did not talk about setting up a curfew so you don't have one." he explained. It pained him to see the habits that his brother-in-law had given Bruce. In the force he had seen a lot of messed up situations and had learned through the job to spot the signs of a less than ideal home. So how had he been oblivious that it was so bad in his own nephew's home? It wasn't until Bruce had moved in that William Walters began to get the minute details that painted an oppressive picture. And every time he noticed a new one he felt a fresh wave of guilt.

"B-ut..." Bruce started again however he had lost his energy to protest, "You're not angry?" he couldn't believe that such a thing was possible.

"No." his uncle answered patiently and understandingly, "I was worried because you had not called me but I was never angry. I'm just glad that you're okay..." the issue was wiped away just like that. William patted the empty space next to him on the coach and Bruce graciously obeyed.

His uncle raised a slightly hopeful eyebrow and looked as his nephew again, "Were you with friends?" his voice was an attempt at disinterest but it was not completely masked away.

"I..." Bruce blinked a few times, "I guess I was." the corner of his lip formed a lopsided smile unbeknownst to him.

William nodded, satisfied and relieved beyond expressions, "I'm glad. Friends are important." he said sagely. He then stood and turned to the kitchen to make some tea.

"The grand opening is tomorrow. Are you going to invite your friends to come? I'd like to meet them."

It wasn't as much of a question as it sounded like, his uncle wanted to meet his friends and he would one way or another.

Bruce nodded once, "Sure..." he said gently. A slight smile pulled at the corner of William's lips.

* * *

**I had initially intended this and the next chapter as a single chapter but I figured I would feed you guys so I didn't feel quite so much like a horrible author.**

**As always-leave comments for me :) It encourages me to write and post faster knowing that people are reading and enjoying.**

**-if not for me-do it for Tony and Brucey-kins?**


	4. Chapter 4: What's your type?

**Chapter four:**

Home ec with Clint had passed like normal. The younger teen spent a lot of time saying how his dad liked Bruce. Then he had put on an imitation of Tony's voice as he told him that Tony had said Bruce _'wasn't as bad as he had first thought.'_

Bruce found that amusing and made sure to store that also in his file of things he could use for teasing against Tony.

During lunch Clint had to retake a test for his math class and Natasha was tutoring two jocks, so it was just Tony, Pepper, and Bruce in room 108.

The air clung to itself in an awkward embrace that left no room for speaking into. It was suffocating how words were deprived from them by the absence of Clint.

After a few minutes that drug on longer than anyone liked, Tony broke the silence when he looked up from his lunch and purposely coughed, "So," he drawled, not really having any topic in mind before he spoke. Bruce and Pepper looked up at him expectantly, the unsaid words hanging in the air.

After another half minute of awkward return to silence Pepper had finally had enough.

"Ugh." Pepper scrunched her face as her patience finally went out the window, "I can't stand this any more. You two can be awkward by yourselves. I'm going to my next class." She sulked and sauntered out of the room with a huff of her breath.

The air instantly released itself when she left and the teens exchanged a meaningful look before Tony cracked a smile and Bruce breathed a huff of relief.

"She doesn't like me much does she?" Bruce dramatically grimaced and saw Tony smile at his gesture; he was thankful that the gesture had the intended effect.

"I don't know what's up with her." He answered lightly, not caring what Pepper thought of his new friend, "She'll warm up to you eventually." He assured him.

"Yeah," Bruce drawled, "But the question is will that be before or after I die?"

"After maybe?" Tony raised his eyebrows teasingly and took a jab at Bruce's ribs with his finger.

"Ah!" Bruce comically grabbed for his 'stab wound' and laid back onto the desk behind him, sticking his tongue out for an added effect.

Tony chuckled lightly as he watched Bruce sit back up. Bruce was chuckling himself, something Tony realized he loved the sound of—but that was something better kept surreptitious.

They played around and jabbed at each other for the rest of lunch. It was the most Bruce had smiled in a long, long time; he couldn't even remember the last time he had smiled so widely or the last time he smiled long enough to make his cheeks hurt. Something about they way Tony smiled at him was infectious.

.

.

.

Later that day Bruce walked out to the front of the school and spotted Tony and Clint waving at him, with Natasha standing with a small smile beside Clint. Pepper was standing to the side also. However, she stood with a slight scowl gracing her face until Tony elbowed her in the side, to which she reluctantly raised her hand in a unconvincing wave.

Tony must have talked to her because she seemed slightly less obvious about her hostility and she at least tried to be tolerable, though whether that was simply while Tony was present or not was anyone's guess.

Bruce's eyes lit up. Whether he realized it or not he had made at least three friends at his new school and he was getting comfortable there.

"Bruce!" Clint greeted the older teen ecstatically as he wrapped his arm around the other's neck, "Can you come over to my house today? Maybe you won't be able to find your way home again and this time you can stay at my house!" he was grinning from ear to ear in that goofy way that was starting to grow on Bruce.

A humorous snort came from Natasha. Pepper's glaring became obvious at that but Bruce ignored it and smiled anyway.

"Actually," he drawled, "My uncle's grand opening is today so—"

"Really? That's great!" Clint piped in excitedly.

"Can we come to it?" Tony asked considerably more calm than his companion, but still showing an interest in going.

"Sounds good to me." Natasha spoke up, "I like tea."

Bruce nodded. He was going to ask them anyway; that they had had the idea themselves was even better.

"Cool! Let's go now!" Clint was bubbling up with anticipation and his eyes were lit up with energy.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Bruce rubbed at the back of his neck somewhat out of habit, "I mean, follow me." he lamely finished when he realized that he was the only one who knew where his uncle's was.

.

.

.

"One more Ginseng for table four." Bruce's voice instructed through the window, just barely over the chatter of customers.

The tea shop had opened up with an elegantly written "Will's Tea" sign hanging above the restaurant as a sort of advertisement. Bruce had felt a swell of pride at seeing that. It was an admittedly lame and uncreative name, but knowing that his uncle still chose it was humbling.

The restaurant's grand opening was a success and all of the tables and booths in the large shop were filled with customers of all ages. A large majority of the customers were strangely enough girls in their teens or twenties.

At the table closest to the back were Tony, Pepper, Clint, and Natasha. They were seated the closest to where Bruce raced in and out as he brought tea and lemon bars out (they had only decided on one desert so far but were planning on adding more to the menu) and where he occasionally brought back empty dishes.

Uncle William was behind a door brewing tea as fast as humanly possible. And although it was a half-open wall that allowed the customers to watch Bruce's uncle make the tea there were few to no eyes on him. In front of the half-open wall was a register and glass display case where the lemon bars were waiting for Bruce to move them and serve them to customers.

"Wow! These lemon bars are awesome." Clint openly praised the spongy desert in his hand.

Natasha was sipping her own tea slowly, silently enjoying the warm liquid that kindly offered a sweeter taste then any desert. Tony wouldn't drink it everyday but he had to admit it was almost as good as coffee. Almost. He nodded in agreement before glancing at Bruce as he rushed past again. The whole restaurant was bustling with coming and going customers and Tony was worried that it was too much for Bruce to handle on his own. He wanted to help him...

"My dad drinks tea a lot but I never knew it could be this good." Clint continued as he moved on to his cup.

"I like the dessert too." Natasha intoned as she nibbled on her lemon bar. Natasha and Clint were so in tune to one another that Tony often wondered why they weren't dating yet. It was obvious to everyone but them (or more specifically Clint) that they, as corny and cliché as it sounded, completed each other. When Clint sped up she slowed him down, and when Natasha withdrew he pulled her out. They bettered each other he supposed.

Pepper sighed in her corner beside Tony. It was obvious she wasn't happy at all to be there and had only come for Tony, and possibly to keep an eye on Bruce.

Snapped out of his musing, Tony looked over the whole room, examining the customers and tea shop's simple design with wonder. There was a sweet aroma to the place and the pleasant clinking of china. The restaurant itself was warm and spacious with a homey appeal. Tony could imagine curling up in a corner and working easily here.

"They sure like him." Clint off-handedly thought out loud as he followed Tony's trailing eyes.

"Who?" Tony questioned.

"The girls." Clint said, "They like Bruce—look." And he pointed out a few examples for the two and sure enough the girls were all staring at Bruce in that dreamy way.

"I guess they like the shy, withdrawn type." Natasha observed neutrally.

"Ugh. Don't they have any eyes?" Pepper mumbled maybe harshly.

"I don't know." Tony mused, "He's actually pretty attractive."

Tony's words had brought their minds to a halt, however he was obvious to their reactions.

Clint recovered first, "Ye-yeah. I guess." He stumbled to form words.

Natasha smirked before masking her face into indifference.

"He wears a lot of green." she stated casually, "I think it makes him look smart and mysterious. What do you think Tony?"

"I don't know." his eyebrow quirked up with consideration, "I guess so...but I think anything would look good on him."

Clint was beginning to catch on and planted his face into his palm.

Pepper was looking at Tony with a pained look, like someone had broken the heals off her shoes.

Meanwhile Natasha's eyes were smirking so obviously that even Tony caught it.

"What?" Tony demanded, confused as to why she was eye-smirking and Clint was looking embarrassed and Pepper's face was pinched.

"What color of clothes do you think would go best with his green eyes?" Natasha asked insidiously.

Tony knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, "Green? He has brown eyes." He paused and then nodded, making sure that he was right first, "They're actually pretty unusual, almost like..." he replied retentively.

And that was the final blow; Natasha began chuckling, granted it was very quiet but coming from her it might as well have been howling with laughter.

"Do you even hear yourself?" Clint mumbled, he seemed embarrassed for Tony and was flushed red.

"WHAT?" Tony was severely confused and didn't appreciate that he was the only one. He looked between his two companions begging for an explanation.

Natasha, having composed herself first, answered him like a mother explaining an adult concept to a small child. "You sound like you -_like_- the guy."

"WHAT?!" Tony's eyes doubled in size and he looked around himself to make sure no one in the restaurant was listening, "N-No I don't!" he yelped, almost cracking his voice.

"Oh really?" Natasha retorted, "What about Bruce's eyes?"

"They stand out okay?" he stated defensively.

"What else about him stands out?" she intoned. The way she asked was completely neutral to most people but Tony knew her well enough to hear that subtle undertone of teasing and to see the smirk in her impassive face. Tony was usually the one teasing so sometimes he forgot that Natasha was an even bigger troll then him when she wanted to be.

Tony groaned before surrendering hope and declaring loudly, "Topic change!"

Clint coughed into his hand to help his friend and cut the conversation short, "I-I'm getting a dog pretty soon." he attributed, hoping it would steer the conversation away from Tony.

"That's cool Clint. Wha-what kind?" Tony took the topic and grabbed onto it like a man clinging to a log in the middle of the ocean.

"A big dog; like a lab-or maybe a shepherd. What type do you like?"

"Yeah," Natasha deadpanned, "What's your _type_?"

"Natasha!" Tony whined pleadingly.

The teenagers finished their tea and desserts with Natasha making dry quips at her pouting friend. Once he made it clear that he was sick of it she stopped (for then at least).

Pepper left to go to an after school meeting not long after that conversation.

Once the conversation was completely comfortable again Clint leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms behind his head, "It smells so nice in here and the food and tea is great. I could stay here forever."

"Don't you have an appointment at the doctors?" Natasha inquired as she remembered some time in the morning when Clint had said his dad would pick him up for that reason.

Clint groaned childishly, "Don't remind me. Ugh, what time is it?"

Natasha checked her phone then told him it was four thirty-six.

"Dang it." he grumbled then looked around the table, "I have to go now." he said miserably.

Tony's brain clicked with an idea.

"Hey, uh, Natasha, why don't you go with Clint?"

"To his doctor's appointment?" she questioned suspiciously.

"Yeah. You could hang out afterwards and then Mr. Barton could drive you home." he read the askance on her face and quickly added, "I, uh, have to do something really boring and it'll take a while-won't be able to drive you home."

Natasha was still suspicious because she didn't completely believe that his lame excuse was true, but she sighed anyway and nodded once before turning to Clint and raising with him.

The two younger members exchanged a mutually suspicious look before they walked away.

Tony heaved a relieved sigh and then once they fully exited the restaurant he glanced again towards Bruce. For the umpteenth time he was serving a new customer.

Tony caught a doe-eyed look on the customer's face that he never, ever, ever, ever, ever wanted to see someone else direct at Bruce again.

He had gotten rid of his friends just for this reason and it was time to put his plan into motion. The whole time they'd been talking, customers had continued to flow in and out and Bruce was waiting on and serving all of them alone. Tony had heard some chatter from the customers, and some were disappointed with how understaffed the shop was and how long they had to wait. Tony didn't like how demanding they were being. It was only one person—couldn't they wait? If he helped then he could relieve some of Bruce's load and get the orders out quicker. It had nothing to do with getting closer to the other teen. He was just being the kind charitable guy that he was-nothing to do with how he wanted to keep the younger, attractive male from the wolfish eyes of every girl in the restaurant either.

Bruce rushed past the table again, this time he slightly paused when he noticed that Tony was the only one, but he couldn't stop long because his uncle hit the kitchen bell again.

Bruce walked over to the half wall that had a small counter built into it and expertly grabbed a plate that had empty teacups and a full teapot balanced on it.

Tony chose then to slip into William's kitchen. Bruce's uncle glanced up at Tony, recalling that his nephew had brought friends with him, and even though he hadn't been introduced to them yet he still suspected that Tony was one of them. Tony watched as William glanced at him then continued on his tea brewing, he was just as busy as Bruce and couldn't afford to be distracted.

"Hi." Tony awkwardly uttered.

He took a steadying breath then collected his next words before he spoke, "I could, um, help?" he finished in more of a question then he intended.

Bruce's uncle glanced at Tony for a long second, his usually kind eyes sweeping over the teen with expert calculation before he nodded sagely with a tentative smile, "That would be very kind." his deep voice spoke gently.

A wave of relief swept over Tony and a smile pulled both corners of his mouth.

At that moment Bruce walked up to the half wall again, his eyes widened in surprise then his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Tony?" he asked for an explanation. Wordlessly Bruce's uncle just tossed a notepad and pen from his back pocket into Tony's hands.

Bruce was able to click things together and looked at Tony confused, "How come you're—?"

Tony shrugged before slipping the pad and pen into his own back pocket.

"I just hate watching how slow you are." He tried to act lax about it but the pink in his cheeks was painfully transparent.

Bruce's uncle noticed how a small smile slipped into place on Bruce's face and his aged eyes widened at the sight; his nephew was never much of a smiling person. A smile took place on his own face as he watched the two younger teens proceed to bicker and banter lightly. Maybe the move to New York City was a positive thing…maybe Bruce was finally healing with the help of his friends.

His nephew was blossoming. William suppressed a chortle at this realization.

He sent the new teen out of the kitchen and then sent them off both with a plate, teacups, and teapot in hand. Tony seemed exceptionally happy at his task, which caused Bruce to dramatically roll his eyes.

When the two teens were out of sight and William was alone with his tea and equipment he lightly chuckled and shook his head in amusement. It had been a while since he had seen Bruce take a liking to anyone; he would have to thank Tony for befriending his nephew later…

.

.

.

Tony stood beside Bruce as the number of customers dwindled to a reasonable number. They were close to closing the tea shop's first day. Tony felt a swell of pride as he looked at the happy customer's faces as they left.

He bumped Bruce's shoulder with his own in a friendly sort of way, "Hey." He said softly, so that their voices didn't carry to the customers, "How are you feeling?"

Bruce blinked, startled like he hadn't realized he was acting in a way that would make him ask, "Fine." He answered and his eyes swept over the customers again, looking for anyone that seemed to want help; no one.

"Why?" he added after another second.

"It's just that you took care of all those customers alone before I helped, so I figured maybe you were tired…" he was easily readable and Bruce's lip quirked up; it wasn't quite a smile but it was almost there.

"I figured that was why you helped."

"Huh?" Tony turned to look at Bruce with widened eyes. But Bruce was determinedly looking ahead. Tony followed his gaze and looked ahead as the conversation dropped, forgotten.

A bare inch was between them. Either one of the teens could have bridged the gap—a brush of elbows or shoulders, but both were steadily looking ahead. The small gap might as well have been a mile.

"Thanks." Bruce mumbled after some more time. Tony looked at him again with confused eyes but before he could ask Bruce quickly added in another mumble, "For helping…"

Tony gave a full smile then bumped his shoulder against the stiffer teen's, "That's what friends are for." He said lightly. It took a second for the importance of those words to sink into Bruce and when they did he felt a sort of warmth in his stomach. It felt like there was a small fire licking at the inside of him and comfortably warming up his whole body.

It felt good.

Bruce nodded as a lopsided smile pulled at his lips.

The customers had dwindled down some more while they talked and now the last of them was walking out.

Bruce's uncle stepped out for the first time and took a content sigh as he looked at the emptied room.

"You two did good." He spoke with a tint of exhaust showing in his deep voice. He moved forward and flipped over a sign so that the 'closed' part was facing outwards towards the world.

He turned back to the two teenagers, noticing how close together they were—something that his nephew usually was averse to. A benevolent smile lightened his features, "Are you tired?"

"No sir." Tony said and both teenagers shook their head.

Will nodded agreeably, pondering for a second before deciding that he wanted to learn about Bruce's unknown, but very helpful, friend.

"William or Will." He corrected, "and thank you for your very generous help…"

"Tony." He offered with a tentative smile.

"Tony." William repeated and glanced at his nephew, he had taken the booth right beside the other teen and was slumping into it. He then returned his attention to Tony.

"Do you go to Shield also?"

"Yes sir-Will." Tony corrected himself with a bashful smile.

Will looked up and down the teen. In his eyes Tony was a dependable and trustworthy young man, and he seemed to be a good influence for his nephew. He looked between the two quickly before smiling and patting a wide palm on Tony's shoulder.

"I planned on hiring a couple more waiters for the shop to help out, of course for a pay…would you be interested in helping on the weekends?" he scanned the teen's expression, watching it transform from shock and disbelief to thoughtfulness to happiness.

"I-I" Tony stumbled for words. He wanted to cheer.

He remembered that Bruce was watching and quickly composed himself, not wanting to look lame in front of the other teen.

He schooled his face to something near indifference and shrugged, "Sure" he mumbled out.

Will smiled knowingly and then looked around, "Then you and Bruce can close up the shop for today. I'm bushed." he let out a long yawn as he stretched out his arms, then he tossed the keys at Bruce. "Bruce will tell you whenever you have work." And then he was off and making the short walk towards and out the door.

Bruce looked up at Tony, and from his seat Tony was taller and looked slightly different from the new angle.

Tony flashed a grin at his friend.

"So, uh, how do we clean up?" his grin turned into a clumsy smile and Bruce had to cough into his fist to hide a half smile himself. Something about Tony's thousand-watt smile was contagious.

He stood up and looked around the room slowly.

"I guess we have to wash off the tables." He mused and looked around with a scowl at all the tables that would need washing.

Tony noticed his mood and smiled to lighten it, "Don't worry; we'll do it together."

After the teens got the washcloths and began washing nearest to the back Tony glanced over to Bruce.

Bruce didn't look tired but Tony suspected that he wasn't the type to show it even if he was. He swiped over the table slowly in circles and risked another glance, this time Bruce caught him. Their eyes locked and Tony expected a smart aleck quip but Bruce smiled maybe a little tentatively. His eyes were gentle and non-judgmental, welcoming to anyone who saw them and able to coax anyone into a happier, calmer mood. As it was it sent chills down Tony's spine, but not the kind of chills people get when they watched a horror movie, but teenage girl watching romantic-comedy chills.

That's what Tony had wanted to explain to Natasha earlier before she began teasing him.

Tony felt his stomach drop as he was brought into that smile, sweet as honey and as precious as water in a desert. Later Tony would easily just sum it up to manly feelings of gratitude at having a common friend.

"U-uhm." He felt his face flush and quickly looked down at the table he was working on to hide it, "Do you think your uncle liked me?" his head was spinning from the confusing signals his body was giving him and he was looking for some type of conversation to somehow help.

Bruce had no clue what the other teen was feeling or thinking of course, or what effect every new expression of his had on the other teen.

There was a small pause as Bruce thought about it and considered what he had seen, "Yeah," he nodded and wiped at another table. "I think so…I mean he offered you a job so he must like you right?" it was more of a question then an answer but it seemed to be what Tony needed.

"Yeah," Tony nodded pragmatically, "You're right." he agreed.

Bruce nodded, then after a second, "…So where did the others go?" he asked to continue the flow of the conversation.

"Clint had a doctors appointment and I threw Natasha with him."

A light chuckle escaped Bruce's lips and Tony found it an addicting sound.

"You wanted to be alone with me that much?" he was verbally poking at Tony. They were close enough to where they could joke around and tease one another now. When Tony first met Bruce he wouldn't have ever thought that he was the teasing type or that he even had any humor, but there it was.

"Yeah, you're pretty irresistible." Tony bounced back naturally, "Don't be surprised now if I can't resist any longer." He drawled dryly.

"Slow down." Bruce flashed a smile that would melt any girls heart, "I'm not a cheap date." he teased but Tony felt like it was anything but teasing. His heart was suddenly threatening to beat out of his chest and he felt his face turn a rosy color again. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to bang his head against a pole, he wanted to hide.

He forced a laugh for Bruce to hear and patted his fist against his chest while mentally yelling at his heart to stop playing stupid games with him.

"Yeah well Clint and Natasha are basically an item," Tony forced himself to speak, "ya know, if Clint would just realize they like each other...I try and push them together whenever I can."

Bruce hadn't caught the action since he was busy and retorted back, "How generous of you."

When he turned back around to face Tony he had finished his side of the room.

His face dropped slightly as he noticed that Tony was still two tables behind him.

He wanted to get it over with and lock up and go home though so he walked over and started on the nearest table.

Once the two teens were done the room looked as good as it had when it had first opened up.

"Perfect." Tony purred and his chest swelled up with manly pride.

"Good enough." Bruce intoned and turned towards the exit.

Tony didn't miss a step and walked beside Bruce.

"Want a ride home?" he offered. Bruce opened the door then closed it behind them both and pulled out a set of keys and locked the door.

"I have my motorcycle..." Bruce looked over his shoulder just in time to see a disappointed look disappear from Tony's face.

He turned towards him and offered an apologetic smile, "Some other time maybe."

"Huh?" Tony jerked back to attention, "No, it's alright." He shrugged it off.

"Wanna come over to eat?" Bruce offered with as much nonchalance as he could. He knew that Clint would hear about it later and complain again but Bruce didn't really care; he didn't quite want to separate from Tony just yet.

"Uh…" Tony thought about it. He really thought about it; what Pepper would think and if his father would be fine with it…he probably wouldn't even notice Tony was gone.

"Sure." He smiled. He was curious what Bruce's room looked like anyway.

"Great." Bruce gave a lopsided smile, "My uncle won't mind. Is it alright with your…" parents? "—dad?"

"Yeah…I just have to text him." Tony nodded and then looked to his car that was parked far down the street, "I'll follow you?"

"Yeah." Bruce nodded then added with some humor, "This time I can find my own way home though."

.

.

.

"Welcome home Bruce, I'm making stir fry tonight." his uncle greeted the opening door from the kitchen without so much as a glance at the door.

"We have a guest." Bruce informed him as Tony stepped in after him.

His uncle thought this a curious thing and looked over to see that, as he had expected, Tony was standing a little anxiously in the doorway.

"Welcome Tony. I'll have to set up another plate then..." he drawled and moved to do as he had said.

Bruce looked at the wok, it would be a while before dinner would be ready and he was thinly coated in sweat and wanted a shower. He glanced at the bathroom door that was between his and his uncle's rooms. Briefly debating the etiquette of showering with a guest and the benefits of a shower he decided the latter outweighed the former.

"I'm gonna take a shower." he announced and left Tony to talk with his uncle.

.

.

.

Tony glanced at the bathroom door for the umpteenth time when he thought the older man wasn't looking. They were both sitting in the living room, Tony on the couch and William Walters on the recliner. Tony could hear the shower water from there and it made it hard for him to think straight.

Bruce's uncle was silently reading over the cooking instructions to make sure that he hadn't missed a step while he also was planning what to do next. Meanwhile Tony was fidgeting and trying to make sure his thoughts remained in the living room.

Another glance. Bruce had been in there for almost ten minutes now.

"Bruce takes leisure in few things." William spoke as he saw the anxious teen look at the bathroom door again, offering a knowing smile, "Showers are one of those few things...he will be another few minutes."

"O-oh." Tony felt his cheeks redden at being so easily read, "What else does he like?" he asked after another second.

Bruce's uncle gave a small smile to the teen, "Not much." it seemed like the man was possibly teasing him, maybe that's where Bruce got that from...

Tony seemed disappointed for a second until Bruce's uncle spoke up again.

"Thank you for being Bruce's friend...He hasn't had many friends in his life." William left out how he believed that Bruce's friendship with Tony was helping to show him what true freedom felt like.

Tony was confused and it showed. William was about to elaborate and explain more efficiently when the click of the door unlocking interrupted him.

Just then the bathroom door opened and with a gust of steam Bruce stepped out; one towel wrapped around his waist while another rested on his shoulders to catch any water droplets.

Tony's eyes widened for a moment before he quickly averted them away from the less then modestly dressed teen; far too quickly to notice the pink colored scar that splashed from Bruce's collar bone to over his shoulder just barely peaking out from under the white towel.

Tony didn't see it though so he was just surprised that Bruce had walked out like that; although to his own surprise he was able to fully mask it into casual indifference.

Bruce mumbled something about forgetting a change of clothes before he vanished into his room. Tony forced his eyes not to follow the other teen as he walked away, looking anywhere but in his direction.

Bruce's uncle glanced at the door himself, as if making sure that Bruce wasn't about to come out.

"Tony, you seem like you care very much for my nephew..." William started.

"We-well I wouldn't exactly say that." Tony was flustered by how William had worded that and he stumbled for words himself, "I-I've only known him for a couple weeks or so..."

Will nodded sagely before continuing.

"I'm only telling you this myself because I know my nephew and he isn't the type that'd freely tell you-"

"Then maybe you shouldn't tell me." Tony's words surprised himself. They were firm and loyal to Bruce though he had hesitated before speaking, "If it's about him then I want him to tell me himself."

He felt bad about cutting off the kind uncle but he didn't want to betray Bruce's still forming trust in any way.

A reverent smile crossed Will's face and he looked content with Tony's answer.

"You're right young man...My nephew is lucky to have you."

"Y-yeah?" Tony squeaked returning to his usual self, "Thanks." he mumbled with rosy cheeks.

Maybe if he had seen that scar he would have wanted to ask Bruce's uncle what he was about to tell him; but as it was he hadn't and he didn't.

A minute later the table was set with a wok full of stir fry and Bruce emerged out of his room with a red pullover hoodie and light gray sweatpants. William murmured something of an explanation that those were Bruce's version of PJs. It seemed odd to Tony that a guy would wear so much to bed but he didn't say anything about it.

After a quiet and peaceful dinner Tony noticed that almost two hours had passed and said that he should head home. So he gave his goodbyes and thanked Bruce' uncle for dinner and the job. Bruce seemed reluctant to see his friend leave but didn't voice his opinion and merely sent him off with a wave and a ghost of a smile.

"You're friend seems..." Bruce's uncle trailed off as he tried to think of a adjective that fit the teen, "nice." he settled with lamely.

"Yeah," Bruce smiled again, "He is."

"And he makes you smile." his uncle added.

"Huh?" Bruce's eyes slightly widened before he quickly regained composure, "Oh..." he looked at the sink which he'd just set dishes in, "I guess so."

Will nodded pensively, "I'll take care of the dishes Bruce." he brushed his nephew's shoulder with his own as he took his place.

Bruce nodded and stretched, "thanks." he said but his thanks was muffled with a yawn.

* * *

**_So? What do you think of their still-forming relationship? Tony's starting to take a shine to Bruce (whether he knows it or not) and Bruce is a bit more difficult. It takes more for him to get to where they need to be to get into a relationship. He's still warming up to the idea of friends._**

_**THANK YOU TO ALL OF YOU WHO HAVE COMMENTED AND FOLLOWED/FAVORITED THIS STORY OF MINE. And a special thanks to those that I've noticed have read my other Tony/Bruce stories and commented. Off the top of my head is msmalone90, who has commented enthusiastically to all my stories-thank you.**_

_**A sincere thank you to you all.**_

_**I encourage any silent readers to speak up (I used to be a silent reader). I read all my comments and take my reader's feedback/thoughts into consideration and greatly appreciate the feedback.**_


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